Little Balls of Paper
by Satan Abraham
Summary: So, maybe there was someone that Roger didn't hate all of the time. [slight if you squint what jack/roger] [modern AU] [oneshot] [bill]


Roger sat at the back of the classroom, systematically tearing up pieces of paper and balling them up. He lined them up on the edge of his desk; he didn't throw them, that would be more trouble than it was worth, and while he didn't care about consequences, he was already in this stupid room for an hour after the rest of the week and he didn't want to extend that. He had better things to do.

He would, of course, not have shown up, but the teacher in charge had waited outside his last class and grabbed him as he left. They knew by now that calling Roger's home, threatening suspension, threatening expulsion – it wasn't going to work. So they'd resorted to other methods.

There were a few other people he knew in here. Bill, who was slouched down so far that nobody could see him playing on his phone. Sam, or Eric, with his head down on the desk, presumably asleep. No Maurice, which was a shame. Maurice could be annoying, but Maurice also listened to him, so Roger was willing to put up with the annoyance every once in a while.

It was quiet.

At least, until Jack Merridew was led in, loudly proclaiming that he shouldn't be there. "I'm _Jack Merridew, _you can't _do _this, what am I supposed to _do _in here I have _choir practice."_

Roger rolled his eyes and went back to tearing up paper. He'd have enough to cover the desk soon. He didn't know what he'd do with it all once he'd covered the desk, but he'd think of something. Maybe he'd scoop them all into his backpack, and dump them out once he got home. Maybe he'd dump them out here. Maybe he'd just leave them.

Jack flounced to the back of the room and sat down in the seat next to Roger. Roger looked at him out of the corner of his eye, a slight frown quirking his mouth downward. Jack was sitting up straight, his fingers tapping on the desk and his mouth pursed, and Roger thought he'd never seen a prissier-looking teenager. It was the closest thing to humorous that Roger had seen all week.

It wasn't funny enough for him to stop making balls of paper, though. He started on a new sheet, tearing slowly and enjoying it as Jack squirmed a bit. A few rips later, Jack turned to face him. "You! Stop that, it's giving me a headache, what are you even doing?"

Roger blinked at him and kept tearing the paper. Jack scowled deep, and Roger crumpled the paper.

Then he figured out what to do with them. He stopped tearing up his notebook paper, and Jack turned to face the front. With the dramatic music of Knightmare Tower in the background, Roger threw one of the balls of paper at Jack. It hit him in the cheek, and he whirled to face Roger, high spots of color raising on his cheeks and his mouth open in shock.

Roger threw the next one into his mouth.

Jack threw up his hand.

Roger threw another piece of paper, Jack was ignored by the teacher, and Roger, completely sure that Jack would do nothing to retaliate, continued throwing the paper. After about ten minutes, though, Jack started getting angry.

After twenty, he started getting _really _angry.

About twenty-three minutes in, with pieces of paper scattered around Jack's desk and more than a few little balls in his hair, Jack turned and lunged at Roger. Roger hadn't been expecting it, and knocked his head fairly hard against the brick wall.

The teacher noticed _this. _

"Stop fighting," he said, and Jack got off of Roger. Roger reached up and felt the back of his head. His fingers came away bloody, and he frowned. He didn't really feel dizzy or anything, so-

He tried to stand and failed.

He didn't quite know what happened next, but suddenly he was moving through the hallway, one of Jack's arms around his waist and one of _his _arms slung about Jack's neck. Jack was muttering, but he looked pale, and was glancing over at Roger every few seconds. Roger frowned and wondered what was going on.

"I'm taking you to the nurse," Jack said, and Roger nodded. The movement made his head spin, though, so he stopped. "Are – are you okay? Did I really hurt you?"

To Roger, Jack sounded almost excited at the prospect of really hurting someone, and it made Roger respect him, at least a little bit. Roger could understand the feeling, did understand the feeling – and, hell, he'd done a lot worse than knock someone into a wall.

"I'm fine," Roger said. Jack looked at him with something that looked like almost disappointment.

"That's the first time I've ever heard you talk, and your voice is too high," he said, and Roger's frown deepened. He didn't think his voice was too high. It was a voice, for God's sake – it was just a normal voice. Jack had kind of a high voice, and Roger opened his mouth to tell him so when another wave of dizziness crashed upon him, leaving him clutching Jack like a life preserver. Jack sped up, muttering something about not wanting to be in the way when Roger started emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor, and Roger thought that, maybe, he'd found someone that he didn't hate being around.

* * *

**This was requested by a user on tumblr, who wanted Jack/Roger! I used to be really into Jack/Roger. Now I'm only mildly into Jack/Roger, so 'not hating' is probably the best we'll get. But this was fun! Modern AU! Bill! The occasional bit of somewhat purple prose! All the best things in life!**


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